All she Knows is you Spent a Billion Dollars on Fireworks

I was walking along outside of a place that seemed to be like a Church having an outdoor celebration of a wedding. The people I was with directed my attention to the sky.

man: "Check out the show they're putting on. Missouri is the only place where they do this. It costs $100 billion dollars."

Note
It might not have been Missouri, but I'm pretty sure it was a U.S. state that started with M.

Looking at the skyline I saw tons of fireworks going off, it was fairly cool but then the show ceased to impress me so much. I started to ask them who they were, who they thought I was, and what they knew about dreaming. Decided to just ask more about what they seemed to want to talk about.

me: "Why does it cost $100 billion for a little firework show?"

The man ignored that question, and seemed to go down the track of answering what I had thought about asking at first but hadn't.

man: "Your name is a very big deal around here, it came out of an observation."

me: "What observation?"

man: "That you are one of two U.S. Brains, and there weren't supposed to be two."

The scene shifted to the interior of someone's office, it looked fairly industrial. Someone was showing me an email where they had been challenging the Facts which had been written about my name, and what my official middle initial was.

I scrolled down to the end and saw another part of the conversation, where someone was ranting about whether this should be looked into deeper. I wasn't clear on whether they supported the investigation or were warning not to pursue it. It said something I'll paraphrase as more or less:

If you are going to be taking that stance on this, I'm about to give you a wake-up call. You're up against something so big... you have no idea. This organization has cameras EVERYWHERE, a completely unlimited budget, and more kinds of weaponry than you have ever dreamed could be pointed at you. Watch your step and choose your next words carefully, mister.

The email guy watched me scroll through and when I read that part, he turned to me.

email guy: "Your friend is weird."

me: "Yep."

Note
I presumed he was talking about the author of that part of the mail, who he identified as somehow being my friend.

A phone rang, and the email guy answered it. I didn't hear the conversation but apparently there was some kind of attack happening.

email guy: "I don't think we should just hide in here and do nothing. We can help with the security. Half the people out there on the front line don't even know UNIX."

me: "It's your funeral if you want to go out that door."

I noticed the door was being forced open from the outside. The person who came in looked like Arnold Schwarzenneger from the terminator. I shook email guy's hand.

me: "Sigh, Terminators. Yeah, well, this one is here for me, so if I were you I'd run the other direction."

email guy: "I'm not going to just leave you here."

The Terminator hit me with some kind of blast weapon that seemed to come from its face. Somehow I could still see in the room as email guy looked at me for a moment, and then at the Terminator, and then darted off around the corner--narrowly avoiding a shot taken at him.

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The accounts written here are as true as I can manage. While the
words are my own, they are not independent creative works of fiction
—in any intentional way. Thus I do not consider the material to
be protected by anything, other than that you'd have to be
crazy to want to try and use it for genuine purposes (much less
disingenuous ones!) But who's to say?